


I Hate You (Don't Leave Me)

by inklesspen



Series: canyons of steel and light [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sex Work, Trolls on Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklesspen/pseuds/inklesspen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting people in her quadrants has never been difficult for Porrim. But keeping them there? That's another story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate You (Don't Leave Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/gifts).



> Worldbuilding notes are linked on the series page, in case you're interested.

# > Damara: be rudely interrupted

«You look simply _exhausted_ , Mistress,» you tell the cameradrone in your most coquettish voice. «Why don't you sit down and tell me all about it?» You pause, then repeat the line with the word for an cerulean-hued "Mistress" instead of a sea-dweller. Not for the first time, you wish Standard Alternian had done away with blood-color inflections when it unified the gender-specific terms for a slave's owner. It's bad enough you keep having to redo lines when you get the accent wrong; this pornsim requires a paleslave who speaks Alternian with an American English accent, but the Cantonese you were raised with keeps leaking in and screwing up the tones. It's incredibly good money, though, so you straighten your skirt and keep going. «That must have been dreadful,» you coo to the camera.

The click of the key turning in the lock is your only warning before Porrim bursts into the room. "I hope you didn't have any plans tonight, because I made some for you," she announces. Then she takes in the scene, you in your Naughty Schoolgirl outfit from the Halloween store, the liberally applied blush on your cheeks, the camera panning over to capture the new subject; it all adds up and she comes to the right conclusion. She doesn't even take her boots off as she interposes herself between you and the camera. She _knows_ she's supposed to take her boots off. "Damara Megido, you depraved wiggler. What would your mother say if she saw this? Hmm?"

«Cease recording», you tell the camera. It bobs in acknowledgement and retreats to the charging dock. You fix Porrim with a firm glare. "You know very well that this doesn't even count as porn from a human perspective. Mom would just be happy I'm graduating from Columbia without student loans and give thanks for aliens' strange interest in Earth. Don't pretend this is about my parents' shame; this is about _yours_."

Porrim's snorts. "And what about your shame? No matter how well you record your lines, you aren't actually pacifying anyone. The people who pay for this shit need _real_ moirails, not sims!" She shakes her head. "I didn't actually come over to argue about this."

"Good," you say. "Because while your opinions about how I earn my living are very infuriating, they're not romantic at all."

# > Porrim: salvage the evening

"Sorry I brought it up," you say before quickly changing the subject. "Anyway, unless you want to stay in and watch Hive of Cards on Netflix again, I thought we could go down to Mona's. There's a great band playing there tonight."

Damara glares over her shoulder as she steps out of her schoolgirl costume. "Let me guess, you 'know' the singer?"

Busted! "No, Sophie's the drummer. But they really are good! Come on, put on that forest-green dress and let me show you off." It takes some cajoling, and some fussing over her makeup, but eventually you get Damara dressed up and out the door.

The snow is still falling as you walk the three blocks uptown to Mona's Bar and Damara is still shivering even with a coat wrapped around her shoulders. Something almost makes you want to take pity on her and go back home, but you discard that idea — no need to mess up a good thing — and focus on the way those heels make her legs look. You don't even bother to suppress a smile. Damn, but you are a lucky girl.

Sophie's band is still setting up when you get to the bar. _Tipping the Musclebeasts_ applies Detroit metal style to 72nd-century Alternian pop music and the combination is pretty popular with college students of both species. You're pretty sure they're going places.

While Damara warms up and gets a drink, you give Sophie a kiss for good luck. After a few seconds, a cocktail glass bounces off your horns, shrouded in the glow of Damara's power. You get in one last smooch before you head back to take Damara's hand. "Hey, honey bear, darling sugerplum," you wind her up, "come on and let's show everyone what they're missing."

"Isn't that what you were just doing?" she mutters, but she consents to be led to a table in the middle of everything. She seems to be enjoying the music, too. You'd hoped she would; the two of you need more shared interests.

You buy the next few rounds as a token of apology; Damara holds her liquor as well as ever, though she still draws the line when you get the fruity drinks served in fermented grubs. "You First-Wave wigglers don't know what you're missing," you inform her, waving a somewhat wobbly hand for emphasis. "Can't get the right texture without a grub! And it's not like we don't have plenty to go around; trust me, I know." She wrinkles her nose at that.

As the _Musclebeasts_ ' set winds on, they play some dancy music, so you and Damara get up and dance. It's increasingly clear she's not as drunk as you are; she's still coordinated, and you, you're not quite shambling, but you're not anywhere near your best. You cut yourself off after that, which only makes Damara grin as she does shots with Sophie and the other band members.

On the walk home, you notice she's not shivering anymore, and in spite of the heels, she's still managing to help keep you upright. When you get to her apartment, she fishes through your pockets for the key, then takes it off the keyring and shows it to you. "You can have this back when you learn how to behave, Porrim. Thanks for a great night out!" And with a smirk, she shuts the door in your face.

Fuck.

# > Khophi: seduce favorite customer

You've been on Earth for just over five months now when you start working at "I Am Coffee" (the best espresso shop in the East Village, you insist to anyone who cares). In Alternian, "Khophi Shoppe" is just a pleasant collection of syllables, but in English, well, there's a reason nobody is surprised when you say you're a barista. But it's a good job. The tips are nice, the owner doesn't hesitate to throw out abusive customers, and in the lulls you get to catch up on your reading. And of course there's all the free caffeine you could ever want.

The pre-commute rush has just wound down when the cute greenblood who lives upstairs from the shop stumbles out of a taxi. She doesn't seem to see your wave and it takes her multiple tries to get the stairway door open. Must have had a long night.

After about a half hour, she comes back downstairs, hair pulled back and wearing a sweat shirt and yoga pants. She puts $5 on the counter and stares blankly at the menu on the wall, holding a hand over one ear to block out the street noise. Yeah. You go straight to work before she can decide to order something boring. You've got some unique syrups that, in the correct proportions, can work something like a miracle. Moments later, you slide over the gently glowing latte, followed by an espresso shot. The greenblood downs them both and blinks repeatedly. "Wow," she says.

"Yep," you reply, grinning.

"Wow!" she exclaims. "What the hell are you doing in a coffeeshop if you can make a hangover cure like that?"

"I like coffee," you reply. "Besides, it only works on trolls." You steel yourself up. "Long night?" you ask, nonchalantly.

"You have no idea," she says. "I am the worst kismesis. It's me." Her cheeks color at this and you know what you have to do.

You take her hands in yours. "I've got my break right now," you tell her earnestly. "Want to go upstairs and talk about it?" When she nods, your bloodpumper does a little flip. Go Khophi, scoring with the pitiful upstairs neighbor!

# > Porrim: Come to an unpleasant realization

You feel a lot better after the paledate. Well, more of a pale one-night stand, you think; you don't normally find yourself in a state like this morning. Still, you wouldn't mind seeing the little barista again. You'd hauled the spare pillows out of the closet and the two of you made a little pile at the foot of the sofa. You'd had a very good conversation about your quadrants. Towards the end, Khophi had reciprocated a bit and told you about her human ex-boyfriend (she'd been fresh off the starship then) and you were able to give her advice on how to find humans who would be more accepting of troll-style romance. There was one thing she'd said that stuck with you; when you told her about Damara refusing to try the cocktails, she'd said "Just like you and her porn, then? Come on, a little give and take is good, Porrim!"

You don't like the idea. But you can't let go of it either. Eventually, you decide the only way to dismiss it is to check out her website and see for yourself. You dig out your credit card and sign up for the free trial.

There's a lot more videos than you were expecting, most of them shot with the same prosumer cameradrone you saw the other night. You scroll past titles like "In which a young domestic servant writes back to her flushcrush in the big city" and "In which a hotblooded gangster instructs her associates to resolve their differences amicably". You even watch a few; they're really sexy, but they're all lacking something; there's very little of the excitement she shows when she's in bed with you. And then you realize something interesting: of all all the titles and categories, not a single one of them is pitch porn.

She's saving that quadrant for you, and only you.

As the realization sinks in, you take off the comfy outfit and change into something sexy. You even get out a few of your favorite toys. Then you get in bed, set your phone to hover and record, and set about demonstrating your ardor. You tell her what you'd be doing to her if she were here. You tell her that you hope she can take it, because you know you can take everything she's got. And then at the end, you tell her what you did and what you saw. "You were right, Damara. I need to be more respectful of your choices. And thank you. Thank you for saving this for us." You stop the recording and hit Send.

Thirty slow minutes tick by. You try to read, or watch TV, but nothing holds your interest. Then your phone buzzes. She sent a winky face emoji. Then a spade symbol. And then, finally, a skeleton key emoji, with the text "Come by at 8?"


End file.
